


Dangerous Disadvantage [Sombra x Reader x Reaper]

by Hylla_Tavorian_Aldan



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, F/F, F/M, Gen, Gender-Neutral Pronouns, Hanahaki Disease, Light Angst, M/M, Multi, Reader Is An Inventor, Widowmaker Is Only Mentioned, reader is gender-neutral, reader works for talon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-27
Updated: 2018-04-27
Packaged: 2019-04-28 19:35:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,027
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14456289
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hylla_Tavorian_Aldan/pseuds/Hylla_Tavorian_Aldan
Summary: Being an inventor for Talon let you see many oddities over the course of your time working for the terrorist organization, the most interesting being the infamous mercenary known as Reaper. When you start developing feelings for him, however, you soon discover that unrequited love is a beautiful and dangerous thing.





	Dangerous Disadvantage [Sombra x Reader x Reaper]

“Hanahaki Disease (花吐き病 (Japanese); 하나하키병 (Korean); 花吐病 (Chinese)) is a fictional disease in which the victim coughs up flower petals when they suffer from one-sided love. It ends when the beloved returns their feelings (romantic love only; strong friendship is not enough), or when the victim dies. It can be cured through surgical removal, but when the infection is removed, the victim's romantic feelings for their love also disappear….Sometimes this also removes their memories of the former beloved, or the victim's ability to ever love again.”

It’s a sad but interesting concept, so I’m gonna make the reader throw up MORE THAN ONE KIND OF FLOWER BECAUSE I WANT IT TO BE PRETTY AND COLORFUL. Reader is gender-neutral.

* * *

 

Being Talon’s resident inventor and mechanic let you see all sorts of wacky characters on an almost-daily basis. Sombra came to you whenever she needed to upgrade her cybernetics, Widowmaker’s new-and-improved venom mines with extended range and larger capacity were made by you, and Moira–the closest thing to your best friend–regularly asked for your aid in her experiments and testing. But your favorite client by far was the black-clad terrorist known universally as the Reaper.

He mostly came to you for weapon tune-ups, and you’d entertain him by spinning wild tales loosely based off of past Overwatch missions and stories from your childhood. It was a simple, almost normal routine for the two of you: he’d come in, you’d repair his weapons and tell stories, he’d take his weapons and leave. Reaper never thought much of it. For you, however, those moments with him meant the whole world to you.

You were one of the kindest and most cheerful people in Talon. You’d greet everyone you met with a smile, and your optimism and sunny demeanor seemed to be contagious. Any room you entered seemed to become brighter just by being in your presence. You paid a bit more attention to Reaper, though. You’d smile and say hi, you’d recommend a few books to him, tell him to stop by the workshop more often, and then you were on your way. He was treated a tad better than most of the other Talon agents, whether he liked it or not.

You’d come to the conclusion that you were in love with him relatively quickly, and you just as quickly accepted that he was never going to love you back. And with this realization, things quickly took a turn for the worse.

One morning, you were in Moira’s lab helping her with a new experiment of hers when you suddenly broke out into a series of hacking coughs. You felt like you were choking as you doubled over and gasped for air. Moira quickly moved to pound your back, but suddenly you were able to dislodge whatever was in your throat on your own.

There on the floor were three flower petals. White, yellow, and purple.

You turned to face Moira, your brows knitted in confusion as you looked down at the flower petals and back at Moira.

“What...did I cough those up?” you asked anxiously. “Those came from my body?”

“They did indeed,” Moira reassured you grimly. “I’ll research any diseases with your symptoms, and I’ll ask Sombra if she knows anything.”

You nodded slightly, wiping your mouth with your sleeve as you slowly stood up to grab the mop from the corner of the lab. After you cleaned up your mess, you quietly thanked Moira and left the lab. You passed by Reaper on the way back to your workshop, and you were too shaken up from earlier to do anything else other than force a smile on your face and wave to him.

When you made it back to your workshop, you collapsed onto the worn-out couch in the back of the room and draped your arm over your eyes. Would you continue to cough up flower petals for the rest of your life? What was causing it in the first place? Was there a cure for it? Would it somehow become worse over time?

You burst into another fit of violent coughs, and after a few minutes you coughed up more flower petals. Just after you collected the petals and put them under the scanner to determine what species they were, Sombra and Moira walked into the workshop. You hadn’t realized you’d left the door open.

“Hola, chica,” Sombra greeted you as she and Moira sat down in one of your waiting chairs. “Moira told me about your little... _ incident, _ and we have some info for you.”

“You have contracted the Hanahaki Disease,” Moira informed you as she beckoned you over to where she and Sombra were sitting. Sombra projected a holographic diagram of what appeared to be symptoms of the disease and its various stages.

“It’s a disease of Japanese origin, and it stems from feelings of unrequited love,” Moira went on. “You will continue to regurgitate flower petals, which over time, will increase in number until you start to throw up entire flowers. The disease usually progresses over the course of several months to at least a year, and the flowers will fill up your lungs and roots will grow in your respiratory system until you eventually choke on the flowers and die.”

By the time Moira finished explaining the disease, your face had drained of color and your eyes were wide; you looked like you had just seen a ghost.

“But...there has to be a cure!” you insisted. “There has to be? Right?!”

“That’s where it gets complicated, chica,” Sombra told you. “There are three methods of curing you: the first is a special surgical procedure that will remove the flowers and roots from your lungs and respiratory system, but it’s extremely dangerous and expensive. And if the surgery has been performed successfully, any romantic feelings you had towards the love interest will be completely gone. Since you’re so prized by Talon, you could probably get the surgery without too much trouble on your part.

“The second method is much harder,” Sombra continued. “Before you die, you must find a way to get the love interest to return your feelings, which will instantly cure you of the disease. But the feelings must be genuine for it to work.”

You gulped. “And...the third method?”

Sombra shrugged. “You die.”

A heavy silence fell over the room, which was interrupted by the  _ ding _ of the scanner.

“I scanned some of the flower petals,” you explained quietly. “To see what species they are.”

You grabbed the result sheet from the printer and looked at it.

“White tulips, meaning is one-sided love,” you read aloud to Sombra and Moira. “Morning glory, love in vain. Acacia, secret love.”

You lowered the sheet and laughed. “Well, at least we know my death will be colorful,” you said with a shrug, a sad smile tugging at your lips as you crumpled the sheet of paper and threw it in the trash.

“Only if you decide not to get the surgery,” Moira reminded you. “You have a few months to decide if you want to get it or not. Choose wisely.”

The hacker and the geneticist exited the workshop, leaving you with a very big decision to make, one that could be the difference between life and a very painful death.

* * *

 

The months wore on, and you continued to cough up flower petals to the point where you had to stop going on missions because of the disease. Yet you still tried your damn hardest to make it look like everything was okay, like you had everything under control. Because goddammit, these Talon agents needed someone to help them feel a bit better about working for a terrorist organization.

But when you finally coughed up your first full flower, you knew the time to make your decision had come.

You informed your superiors of your condition, and just as Sombra predicted, they offered to perform the surgery on you right after you gave them all of the details.

“I would like to get the surgery,” you told Maximilien, the Talon executive you reported to most frequently. “I understand and accept the risks, and would like to go through with it.”

Maximilien chuckled lowly under his breath. “You’re terrified of death, aren’t you?” he inquired. “No need to be embarrassed; it’s a deep-rooted fear that both humans and Omnics alike possess. We’re so keen on avoiding death that we’re willing to sacrifice anything just to earn a few more years of life.” Maximilien gazed at you intently. “In your case, it would be the feelings of love you harbor for someone, regardless of whether that person returns your feelings or not.”

After a moment, you nodded slightly. “I am terrified of death,” you agreed, clenching your fists tightly by your sides. “But if I lose feelings for one person in exchange for living, then so be it. One day I’ll find someone else who returns my feelings, and then I’ll be happy. But as of now, staying alive and being able to help Talon to the best of my ability is my top priority.”

Maximilien nodded. “Then head to the operating room,” he instructed you. “You’ll find we’ve acquired a surgeon who specializes in the procedure you’re about to undergo. Moira will also be assisting him with the surgery.”

“Thank you, sir,” you said, bowing slightly before the Omnic before turning around and heading to the operating room. It was too late to back out now. Not that you were planning on it.

* * *

 

Reaper always had an inkling of suspicion that you harbored romantic feelings for him. You’d always treated him a bit better than the other Talon agents, but that was hardly anything to go off of. He  _ had _ planned on asking you at some point, but he was busy as a Talon executive and you were busy as Talon’s leading inventor and mechanic.

Now that he thought about it, however, you’d been becoming more distant from him. You started treating him like the rest of the Talon operatives: a smile and a wave, a short conversation maybe, but that was it. The final piece of evidence that proved to Reaper that something had happened to you was when he asked you a very straightforward question one day as you were repairing his shotguns.

“Do you like me?” he asked you.

You glanced up slightly. “Romantically?” you asked, an amused smile growing on your face. “Heh, didn’t know the Edgelord was capable of showing romantic interest.”

“Just answer the question already,” he growled.

“Alright, alright,” you conceded. “Unfortunately for you, I don’t like you in the romantic sense. If it seemed like I was leading you on earlier, I’m genuinely sorry about that. I was only trying to be polite; put you in a better mood and such. Besides, I have a girlfriend now!”

Wait,  _ what. _

“Anyway, I fixed your shotguns for the  _ umpteenth time, _ ” you announced, placing them in their carrying case and handing it to Reaper. “So try to take better care of them, m’kay? I know someone who sells gun care kits, so let me know if you ever wanna check him out.”

Reaper was silent as he accepted the carrying case, and he left your workshop without another word. Seconds later, Sombra shimmered into existence and wrapped her arms around your neck.

“Do you regret getting the surgery, cariño?” Sombra asked you, affectionately nuzzling her face in the crook of your neck.

“Of course not,” you replied, smiling softly at Sombra’s touch. “I would’ve ended up dying, and there was really no point in crying over spilt milk. Reaper doesn’t like me, and that’s that.”

“Well, I think he does now,” Sombra pointed out. “He  _ did _ just ask you if you liked him or not.”

“Then he’ll have to get over it,” you replied simply with a light shrug. “I have you now. I have my own piece of happiness now because of you.”

Sombra let go of you for a minute so that you could turn around and kiss her sweetly on the lips.

“Te amo, cariño.”

“I love you, too.”

 

**Author's Note:**

> "I've always assumed that love is a dangerous disadvantage. Thank you for the final proof."
> 
> [William Sherlock Scott Holmes]


End file.
